


Eyes Blue as Ice, and Twice as Cold

by IvoryObsidian



Category: The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Rewrite, Canon-Typical Violence, Disabled Character, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Near Death Experiences, Not Really Character Death, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Recovery, Tags May Change, Trauma, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-26
Updated: 2021-01-26
Packaged: 2021-03-18 22:42:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28999959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IvoryObsidian/pseuds/IvoryObsidian
Summary: It has been many years since the calamity that ravaged the land of Hyrule. The Golden Goddesses sense the growing threat of Demise, and cannot wait any longer for their chosen hero to awaken. They proclaim Link dead, and select a new bearer of Courage. Against all odds, the fallen knight rises from the grave, though scarred from his slumber. He no longer has the power of the gods at his side, and yet he continues where he left off one hundred years ago.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 6





	1. Chapter 1

There is only so long a god can be kept waiting. Many years have passed, with no sign of Farore's chosen waking up. Heaving a great sigh, the Golden Goddess casts her eyes to the kingdom of Hyrule. If Link will not wake, she must choose another. Wisdom cannot defeat Power alone, the Triforce must be whole to complete the cycle. Before it is too late.

The goddess spends many days drifting across the land of mortals, searching for one with a strong will and kind heart, like her dear knight. A Hylian won't do… few of their race have drive anymore, and fewer still have courageous souls. She lingers a while amongst Nayru's children, both Zora and Rito alike. She can sense strong wills in these ones. But, no... none of them are fit for this destiny.

Finally, beginning to get desperate, she turns her gaze to Din's blessed ones. And the Goddess is surprised. The Gerudo have been thriving in their lands at the edge of Hyrule. The vast mountains and canyons that bar them from the rest of the world have served to protect them from most of Demise's tainted spawn. Not even a corrupted Guardian has reached the desert, in all these years. Yes, she decides, this is a good place to raise a hero, to keep them safe as they grow, and give them a home to fight for when their time comes.

Farore searches the Gerudo souls, finding a strong willed spirit within the heart of a newborn child. With a smile that could almost be seen as motherly, the Goddess kisses the babe's hand. For just a second, it flashes with golden light, in a perfect triangular shape. And then it is gone, and the Goddess returns to her home in the spirit realm.

* * *

Elsewhere, deep within the condemned Hyrule castle, a different goddess _screams_. With Malice searing her flesh, Hylia weeps for the death of her knight. If even Farore has given up on him, there can be no doubt that he has passed away, doomed to never wake.

Her mortal half shouts in anger. _It's not fair! He will awaken! You haven't given him enough time!_ It is silenced by a terrible roar that shakes the walls of her shared prison. A roar that almost sounds like a laugh. The Calamity grows stronger with each passing day, just as Hylia weakens and tires.

She cannot hold on much longer.


	2. A Light Signals the Dawn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warnings: injury, implied death, character dying, scar mentions (not SH). Skip the two memories (in italics) to avoid the death bits.

* * *

He awoke slowly, feeling nothing but numbness and cold. With the sound of running water in his ears, he opened his eyes, squinting against the harsh light that glared back at him. He blinked a few times, to adjust, and then sat up. Glancing around the room, he noted the lack of furnishings with mild interest. It was bare and empty, save for the cold slab he now sat on, and a short, round table across the room.

No one greeted him, which he found odd. If no one was here, why had he woken up? As his body started to function again, he began to remember small things, little flashes of life. This was a special room, he knew. He tried to remember why.

Suddenly, he recalled a red light, followed by a blue-white flash. Searing pain overtook his side, and he winced, wrapping his arms around himself and shutting his eyes tightly. The white-hot onslaught ebbed away almost as quickly as it had appeared, though his shoulder still ached, remembering phantom pains. Slowly, he opened his eyes and loosened the grip on his torso.

With a start, he noticed one of his hands was different. He’d thought his skin was cold as ice, but this was even colder. He studied his arm, twisting it around to examine both sides. It was made of metal, with faint orange and blue lights glowing from within. He flexed his fingers, intrigued. The mechanical arm moved exactly how he expected it to, almost as if it were a glove. But he knew, as his eyes trailed up the length of it, to his scarred, burned shoulder, that this was no armored shell. It was a prosthetic, to replace an arm he'd lost.

The rest of his body was peppered with scars, too. Some looked to be slices, while others he knew were caused by shrapnel. He placed his organic hand over a scorch mark on his abdomen, grimacing as he remembered its origin.

* * *

_A shining golden arrow arced toward him. He braced himself, raising a damaged wooden shield to deflect it. The shield was knocked out of his hands from the impact, just in time for a second arrow to hit its mark. There was a raw scream as he fell, electricity and pain filling his world. He was fading, falling into nothingness, for a moment that felt like forever; and then, a small voice called out to him. He couldn't hear their words, but he remembered a pinkish light, and then his vision returned, as did his strength. He looked up just in time to see a fairy as it flew away. And then he turned to face the colossal beast before him once more._

* * *

He jolted out of the memory, his breath coming quick and sharp. As his heart raced, he looked around the room again, to confirm he was safe here. With a deep sigh of relief, he raised a hand to his head. It was an unconscious movement, and the sensation of fingers twirling through strands of hair helped to calm him down.

As he continued, he began humming a song from a dream he didn’t quite remember having. It was funny, he mused, that he didn’t recall anything before waking up here, and yet he knew he had dreamed. Guided by the familiar, unfamiliar tune, he used his hands to gauge how long his hair was. He shook it out of its ponytail, combing through the tangled mass of blonde. He’d have to trim the front, he decided. It was getting in the way of his eyes. With perfect muscle-memory, he replaced the small blue band, pulling as much hair as he could out of his face. Twin strands on either side fell out, not being quite long enough for the ponytail.

Huffing a bit, he allowed them to stay. He had more pressing matters to attend to, like warming up, and getting out of here. His belly growled in agreement, and with some effort, he pulled himself up and out of the stone-cold bed. He was wobbly for a moment, blood rushing to his legs and nearly sending him to the floor, but he leaned on the edge of the stone slab until he found his balance.

Stepping carefully and with purpose, he approached the little pedestal at the far end of the room. There was a small rectangular tablet resting on it, sunken in to a perfect mold. He pried it out, and it lit up in response, showing a symbol of a crying eye. Sheikah, he recognized. The tablet made a noise, a high-pitched mechanical whir, and the room responded with a grinding of gears. Then the whole room shook, and he braced himself against the now-empty pedestal, hoping no debris would fall from the ceiling and onto him.

It didn’t; instead, the wall raised up from the floor, revealing a musty supply room. When the ominous rumbling stopped, he caught his breath and stepped into the larger room. It still wasn’t an exit, but it showed promise. Most of the crates and barrels had long since rotten away, leaving nothing but dust and cobwebs. But… he did spy a lone metal chest tucked into a corner. It wasn’t locked, and he lifted the top to reveal a set of neatly folded clothes, protected from the dust and rot that had claimed the other supplies.

He shook out the clothes. They were nothing to gawk at, and in fact, they were a half-size too small for him. But clothes were clothes, and he wasn’t about to refuse them. Any extra layers to fight against the damp chill of these rooms were appreciated. He’d already begun shivering. As he donned the shirt, his prosthetic caught on the shoulder, ripping a hole into the sleeve. He only considered it for a moment before tearing the sleeve completely off. He tore it up into long strips, and wrapped them around his organic hand. Any coverings could give warmth, and his fingers needed that most right now.

With his outfit sorted for the moment, he turned his attention to the pedestal in this room, a near-identical replica of the one in the other room. This one didn’t have a glowing tablet in it, though. Instead, it had a smooth surface, gleaming with orange and blue light, like the backside of his newly acquired Sheikah tablet. As he held the tablet, he saw something in his mind's eye.

* * *

_There was a lot of movement. Swaying, back and forth. And pain; so much pain, his mind was fuzzy with it. He couldn’t feel his arm, but his shoulder was on fire, and he found it hard to keep his eyes open. Found it hard to breathe. And then, finally, the swaying stilled. With but a sliver of vision, he saw a masked figure standing at the pedestal. They held the slate, and tapped it to the eye in the center. With a hiss of hydraulics, and one final, solid thunk, the door sealed, silencing the downpour outside. The masked figure watched, and then mumbled something._

_“Shut out? ...I suppose that’s fitting. Is he still breathing?”_

_“Barely,” rumbled a louder voice. The one who was carrying him. “We should hurry. He’s still losing blood.”_

_As they began moving, pain overwhelmed his mind, and he lost consciousness once more._

* * *

Coming back to the present was a relief after that. Even if it had only been a second, it felt like eternity to him. With a shaking hand, he held the tablet up to the pedestal, like he’d seen, and heard that high-pitched sound followed by rumbling. This time, he was prepared for it, widening his stance and bracing himself with an arm on the no-longer-glowing pedestal.

And the wall raised up.

Golden rays of sunlight flooded in, and with it drifted a cool breeze that made him shiver. He stepped forward, eyes fixed on the entrance, and that bright, warm light. There was one more obstacle between him and the world; the crumbled remains of a staircase, worn away to nothing but a vaguely-shaped mound with a steep face. Bracing himself on the rubble, he climbed up and over, and stepped out into the sunshine.

He took a deep breath, letting it out in a contented sigh. That felt good. Gone was the scent of stale, stagnant air that he'd woken up to. This was fresh, and crisp, and _wild,_ and it gave him new energy.

He kept walking, past the bushes and trees, and stopped at a ledge overlooking the world. Far off in the distance, a volcano smoldered. In front of that lay a castle in shadow, a dark crimson cloud hovering over its head. There were mountains and fields and forests, as well as a plethora of ruined buildings. High in the sky was a massive bird, making slow circles over distant snow-capped mountains. He stared at it all, awestruck by the beauty of the world.

And deep down, buried in the almost-forgotten depths of his mind, he knew he could finally start to live.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW summary  
>  **First memory:** He remembered once when he fought a Lynel, requiring fairy aid.  
>  **Second memory:** He recalled a brief moment of the two Sheikah who carried him to the Shrine of Resurrection.
> 
> ☆--☆--☆  
> 
> 
> This was the only chapter I had drafted out, and it took me about a month, though I did keep changing the plot and having to rewrite it. Regardless, it'll be slow progress from now on.

**Author's Note:**

> Heyo! This is my first time using AO3, and the second time I've posted my writing publicly! I'm so anxious @A@
> 
> This is the prologue, I'm still putting the final touches on chapter 1, so pls be patient with me. I have many plans for this story, and if all goes well there'll be at least 25 chapters. Here's hoping!


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